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Grace
IDryad
Forum Posts: 17049
IDryad
Tyrant of Words
126
Joined 25th Aug 2011Forum Posts: 17049
My Family
love was as rare as a bug
planting flowers
or painting walls
words were spoken
for truth and care
never endearments
dad stressed his commands
with his fists
and feet
mom kept quiet
until her kids were hit
then she screamed a blue fit
my brothers played outside
till dusk
they got beaten
i stole a banana
and was beaten
to nothingness
grown we are now
and gone they are
to the netherworld
but we will always remember
our family...of mom and dad
and nine kids
and how we grew up
on the straight and narrow
with dad's guiding fists.
Written by Grace
(IDryad)
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Calamityofgin
Forum Posts: 149
Fire of Insight
5
Joined 10th May 2020Forum Posts: 149
Progenitors Wake
The drip
And delicacy of my eye
You imagine
It holds pity
You imagine
It holds your favor
And that I intuitively reach
For your nerve
Some nerve
In all my resolve
A posture built of stone
And the stalwart mortar
Experience
My wisdom sticky with it
Even against the Great Wall
You helped lay
From cornerstone
To turret and my stare from it
Even against this
You blow
Silly fragile fragments
You expect
To crumble tumble down
And long gold locks
Like the hair
I used to wear
You believe might spill over
Return to your pull
Of grooming
Tight plaited
Twisted curving
Insecurity
Inebriated wit
Calculated curiosities
Woven tightly
Into my thought process
When puberty
Hit with urge
Remorse
That I had left certain things behind
Laughter with you
Inside jokes
And shared knowledge
A privilege meant
Only for us
An isolationist
In your measure
Your way with me
You had
But not quite
proved
Cold calculating
Alienation
But oh father
How I’ve sinned against
The nature of things
In my head
To my knees
With private mournful
Accusations
With the need for
absolution from it
But with absolve
I dissolve
So return to my eye
The drip she shines
When let loose
That shine
She is not pity
And she is not for you
To my knees
With other things
A world who’s axis
Is not you
A prayer to a God
Who’s strangest angels
Do not sing
In your tonality
A hallelujah chorus rise
Over your horn
And its shrill
Efforts
My walls
They hold
And delicacy of my eye
You imagine
It holds pity
You imagine
It holds your favor
And that I intuitively reach
For your nerve
Some nerve
In all my resolve
A posture built of stone
And the stalwart mortar
Experience
My wisdom sticky with it
Even against the Great Wall
You helped lay
From cornerstone
To turret and my stare from it
Even against this
You blow
Silly fragile fragments
You expect
To crumble tumble down
And long gold locks
Like the hair
I used to wear
You believe might spill over
Return to your pull
Of grooming
Tight plaited
Twisted curving
Insecurity
Inebriated wit
Calculated curiosities
Woven tightly
Into my thought process
When puberty
Hit with urge
Remorse
That I had left certain things behind
Laughter with you
Inside jokes
And shared knowledge
A privilege meant
Only for us
An isolationist
In your measure
Your way with me
You had
But not quite
proved
Cold calculating
Alienation
But oh father
How I’ve sinned against
The nature of things
In my head
To my knees
With private mournful
Accusations
With the need for
absolution from it
But with absolve
I dissolve
So return to my eye
The drip she shines
When let loose
That shine
She is not pity
And she is not for you
To my knees
With other things
A world who’s axis
Is not you
A prayer to a God
Who’s strangest angels
Do not sing
In your tonality
A hallelujah chorus rise
Over your horn
And its shrill
Efforts
My walls
They hold
Written by Calamityofgin
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Purposeful soul
…I bled ecotoplasmic red
as with the sharpened spoon
You pierced and scooped
with swift sleight of hands.
Damaged I could not soar
above the cloudy nights
as You poured into Your
caldron, my soul.
Fired up the grill
I screamed, crying out
for You searing me
I could not endure
without tearful elixir!
No strength to regenerate
a fallen angel
upon the wet dirt
life force began to fade…
…until She came to me
in the warming cold of the mist
a wet and Healing fog
She wrapped me and filled
weakened at first, I managed
sipped on Her womanhood.
She breast-fed me with Her
Healing thoughts
Healing words
Healing touch
Felt it secrete like sap
from Her soul to mine.
truly felt like no time stirred
I could take my time
to repair the damage of
heart and soul
for She loved me
and gave me purpose
through Hers
&
of our soul.
as with the sharpened spoon
You pierced and scooped
with swift sleight of hands.
Damaged I could not soar
above the cloudy nights
as You poured into Your
caldron, my soul.
Fired up the grill
I screamed, crying out
for You searing me
I could not endure
without tearful elixir!
No strength to regenerate
a fallen angel
upon the wet dirt
life force began to fade…
…until She came to me
in the warming cold of the mist
a wet and Healing fog
She wrapped me and filled
weakened at first, I managed
sipped on Her womanhood.
She breast-fed me with Her
Healing thoughts
Healing words
Healing touch
Felt it secrete like sap
from Her soul to mine.
truly felt like no time stirred
I could take my time
to repair the damage of
heart and soul
for She loved me
and gave me purpose
through Hers
&
of our soul.
Written by Tallen
(earth_empath)
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EleazarSwan
Forum Posts: 44
Twisted Dreamer
2
Joined 11th Nov 2018Forum Posts: 44
Emmitt Till
To that young boy named Emmitt Till
Whose death was heard on Capitol Hill
Whose crime was naught but he was black
Whose judgement was his life to lack
A time when freedom hid her face
And reason was without her place
A decade, two, and century still
To maim, and pulverize and kill
'Twas such a time in this great land
Where hatred waved his wild hand
And in his murd'rous rage contend
A nation witnessed Emmitt's end
And all the papers, all around
Saw Emmitt's blood upon the ground
And though he died, his voice could tell
America was doomed to hell
And yet, despite the whims of rage
America would turn the page
And those that loved, and those that felt
Would cause the hearts of men to melt
Encapsulated in the ice
Of war and cash and other vice
The blinding blizzard went away
To bring on freedom's sunny day
And though the road is long
I still
Recall the life of Emmitt Till
Whose death was heard on Capitol Hill
Whose crime was naught but he was black
Whose judgement was his life to lack
A time when freedom hid her face
And reason was without her place
A decade, two, and century still
To maim, and pulverize and kill
'Twas such a time in this great land
Where hatred waved his wild hand
And in his murd'rous rage contend
A nation witnessed Emmitt's end
And all the papers, all around
Saw Emmitt's blood upon the ground
And though he died, his voice could tell
America was doomed to hell
And yet, despite the whims of rage
America would turn the page
And those that loved, and those that felt
Would cause the hearts of men to melt
Encapsulated in the ice
Of war and cash and other vice
The blinding blizzard went away
To bring on freedom's sunny day
And though the road is long
I still
Recall the life of Emmitt Till
Written by EleazarSwan
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wallyroo92
Forum Posts: 1874
Tyrant of Words
154
Joined 11th July 2012Forum Posts: 1874
Legacies
I remember it was the summer of nineteen-eighty-nine when I
first walked into that bandroom. There were so many pictures
and trophies on the wall, some were as big as four feet tall along
with a nostalgia I’ve never felt before. Mrs. Davidson took a liking to me, a scared year fifteen-year old
kid yet she made everyone feel at home. As the years progressed, I understood why she stressed the
importance of developing our craft, they were tools of a great work ethic, team building and friendships
learning skills that were going to last. And Mrs. Davidson kept building a program
of future leaders and champions who would be productive citizens of the world,
and with each passing year I’d visit the kids and cheer them on as they too became
winners, believers in the same dream as we were in my time, their minds were set:
they too were part of this family, this legacy. Mrs. Davidson was more than a
teacher or director, to us she was also our band mom, a guiding mentor she had
instilled sets of skills that we would all use through the rest of our lives. Alongside
fond and cherished memories of friends and relationships we’ve all built over the
years we take pride in the excellence. And the room kept filling up with
even more trophies from parades and tournaments each year kids who
once had marched had their kids march because it was really a family,
so many young faces were filled with hope and wonder whenever
us alumni would visit the school because room 102 felt very
special, like our home away from home. And Mrs. “D”
would tell the tale of us - her first kids, building up the legends and myths
whenever they saw old pictures that hung from the wall,
then I understood how she built up dreams
when young
kids find a
purpose to
believe in
and choose
to work as
a team to
achieve their common goals.
After twenty-eight years at my alma mater
and twenty-five consecutive championships Mrs. D went on to make
more champions at another school. She’s highly revered at all city and in the community
so Mrs. D, this trophy is for you. By the way, it’s old Drum Major Wally, from the class of ’92.
first walked into that bandroom. There were so many pictures
and trophies on the wall, some were as big as four feet tall along
with a nostalgia I’ve never felt before. Mrs. Davidson took a liking to me, a scared year fifteen-year old
kid yet she made everyone feel at home. As the years progressed, I understood why she stressed the
importance of developing our craft, they were tools of a great work ethic, team building and friendships
learning skills that were going to last. And Mrs. Davidson kept building a program
of future leaders and champions who would be productive citizens of the world,
and with each passing year I’d visit the kids and cheer them on as they too became
winners, believers in the same dream as we were in my time, their minds were set:
they too were part of this family, this legacy. Mrs. Davidson was more than a
teacher or director, to us she was also our band mom, a guiding mentor she had
instilled sets of skills that we would all use through the rest of our lives. Alongside
fond and cherished memories of friends and relationships we’ve all built over the
years we take pride in the excellence. And the room kept filling up with
even more trophies from parades and tournaments each year kids who
once had marched had their kids march because it was really a family,
so many young faces were filled with hope and wonder whenever
us alumni would visit the school because room 102 felt very
special, like our home away from home. And Mrs. “D”
would tell the tale of us - her first kids, building up the legends and myths
whenever they saw old pictures that hung from the wall,
then I understood how she built up dreams
when young
kids find a
purpose to
believe in
and choose
to work as
a team to
achieve their common goals.
After twenty-eight years at my alma mater
and twenty-five consecutive championships Mrs. D went on to make
more champions at another school. She’s highly revered at all city and in the community
so Mrs. D, this trophy is for you. By the way, it’s old Drum Major Wally, from the class of ’92.
Written by wallyroo92
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AspergerPoet56
Forum Posts: 1902
Tyrant of Words
33
Joined 4th Dec 2018Forum Posts: 1902
Number Six
Since my diagnosis
Epiphany moment of clarity
All the years
Of struggle
Feelings of not quite being
Had a foundation of meaning
An autism one stop shop
Place of sanctuary
The harbour of choice
When the world
The mind
Gets far too much too handle
Find it hard to connect
Even In a community of writers
Was encouraged to write
To express
Address my thoughts
At number six
The support network
Is the only reason I’m alive
My umbilical cord
That gave a little stability
Enough confidence
To scribble here
Epiphany moment of clarity
All the years
Of struggle
Feelings of not quite being
Had a foundation of meaning
An autism one stop shop
Place of sanctuary
The harbour of choice
When the world
The mind
Gets far too much too handle
Find it hard to connect
Even In a community of writers
Was encouraged to write
To express
Address my thoughts
At number six
The support network
Is the only reason I’m alive
My umbilical cord
That gave a little stability
Enough confidence
To scribble here
Written by AspergerPoet56
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Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
slipalong
Forum Posts: 861
Dangerous Mind
43
Joined 1st Jan 2018Forum Posts: 861
The ration book
WARNING !! as this contains no rose scented words
no beseech from the altar to the heart
blessings bestowed upon the flock
just pictures of neglect that wars have brought
and destitution was its scourge
Hear that quote the "uncofortabe truth"
the cerfew as good times depart
the drone of bombers overhead
heard sirens wail, and escape onslaught
the praying deadly birds
Scratch around for comforts
amongst the debris piles
playgrounds imaginations
the ink that never dries
and all of that mosaic the cream amid the curd
Each classroom beset with the correction pen
the margins we survived
for in that red, the underline, a total out of ten
as the fractions were applied
in hard times, the invest a rapid learning curve
The ration book the teachers pet
teaching of non essentials be purged
for those who took you shoulder
the brotherhood you tied
the boyish grin, a hug and whispered hold your nerve
stamped with the stuff of nightmares
the worst and best of times
not in books, a siblings right to share
and blood the essence of that guide
and wisdom come and hold in that preserve
no beseech from the altar to the heart
blessings bestowed upon the flock
just pictures of neglect that wars have brought
and destitution was its scourge
Hear that quote the "uncofortabe truth"
the cerfew as good times depart
the drone of bombers overhead
heard sirens wail, and escape onslaught
the praying deadly birds
Scratch around for comforts
amongst the debris piles
playgrounds imaginations
the ink that never dries
and all of that mosaic the cream amid the curd
Each classroom beset with the correction pen
the margins we survived
for in that red, the underline, a total out of ten
as the fractions were applied
in hard times, the invest a rapid learning curve
The ration book the teachers pet
teaching of non essentials be purged
for those who took you shoulder
the brotherhood you tied
the boyish grin, a hug and whispered hold your nerve
stamped with the stuff of nightmares
the worst and best of times
not in books, a siblings right to share
and blood the essence of that guide
and wisdom come and hold in that preserve
Written by slipalong
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Kinkpoet
Forum Posts: 1075
Tyrant of Words
11
Joined 9th May 2019Forum Posts: 1075
Valeriyabeyond
Dhyana
Forum Posts: 2668
Dhyana
Dangerous Mind
3
Joined 3rd May 2020 Forum Posts: 2668
My Guidance Counselor
You, me, yo no
Persuasion,
brought before me
It's degree, is heightened
beyond beauty
Limerance set aside
with folly
I find clear lucidity
in artful service
A perpetual state
of non-resistance
The deep, unobstructed,
unfolded,
In me,
you are limitless
Ego dissolved,
conssumate
Subconscious pain,
altered
Into conscious elation
A determined touch,
leads me to open waters
where I dive
into willfull embodiment
Me, you, yo no
Persuasion,
brought before me
It's degree, is heightened
beyond beauty
Limerance set aside
with folly
I find clear lucidity
in artful service
A perpetual state
of non-resistance
The deep, unobstructed,
unfolded,
In me,
you are limitless
Ego dissolved,
conssumate
Subconscious pain,
altered
Into conscious elation
A determined touch,
leads me to open waters
where I dive
into willfull embodiment
Me, you, yo no
Written by Valeriyabeyond
(Dhyana)
Go To Page
anna_grin
ANNAN
Forum Posts: 3367
ANNAN
Dangerous Mind
15
Joined 24th Mar 2013Forum Posts: 3367
thinking: a man called mania
// said of him//wary-eyed//muscles like eggshells//pain//is weakness leaving the body////pain is weakness leaving the body//had enough that he put it on tap and on the house//dripdrip//why but what good is there in a happy childhood//as much as in a happy meal he'd maybe have said//critical his attitude//his place//his mental health//tractable concrete//opacity of mirrors//we shared some things//how old is he? and i//uncaring//distantly obsessed//i divided in my womb//became two//enough of this and i will have fingertips soon//
Written by anna_grin
(ANNAN)
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Thetravelingfairy
Forum Posts: 286
Fire of Insight
15
Joined 12th July 2017 Forum Posts: 286
The Master of IV’s
That day was supposed to be
A nightmare
Like the night before
Shaking in fear
Surgery
Goodbye wisdom
Crying eyes, wiped dry
By a peculiar nurse
Easing my mind
Until she walked away
And I trailed behind
My eyes couldn’t follow
Her love was my arrow
Swish this, she said
“Spit it out?”
“Yup, all over my sink”
What the hell is this
Trembling legs, paralyzed
Here comes the needle
Hold still
“Good girl”
That’s it?
And then I sat back
And watched her magic
One that worked within seconds
And I was out
A nightmare
Like the night before
Shaking in fear
Surgery
Goodbye wisdom
Crying eyes, wiped dry
By a peculiar nurse
Easing my mind
Until she walked away
And I trailed behind
My eyes couldn’t follow
Her love was my arrow
Swish this, she said
“Spit it out?”
“Yup, all over my sink”
What the hell is this
Trembling legs, paralyzed
Here comes the needle
Hold still
“Good girl”
That’s it?
And then I sat back
And watched her magic
One that worked within seconds
And I was out
Written by Thetravelingfairy
Go To Page
admin
DU Webmistress
DU Webmistress
Mistress of the Underground
1
The winner of this competition and any runners up were decided by public vote.
Thank you to the following members for voting:
AspergerPoet56, Sky_dancer, runaway-mindtrain, Honoria, ReggiePoet, dustyJournals, applepie77, Phantom2426, PoetsRevenge, Ely, Frustrated_prole, nutbuster, Layla, PittinixDesigns, Kinkpoet, LilDragonFly, OG-Poetry, MadameLavender, socksscareme, Jade-Pandora, lepperochan, adagio, Blackdove, DaisyGrace, Magdalena, Poetic_Strength, Grace, FromTheAsh, SweetOblivion
Thank you to the following members for voting:
AspergerPoet56, Sky_dancer, runaway-mindtrain, Honoria, ReggiePoet, dustyJournals, applepie77, Phantom2426, PoetsRevenge, Ely, Frustrated_prole, nutbuster, Layla, PittinixDesigns, Kinkpoet, LilDragonFly, OG-Poetry, MadameLavender, socksscareme, Jade-Pandora, lepperochan, adagio, Blackdove, DaisyGrace, Magdalena, Poetic_Strength, Grace, FromTheAsh, SweetOblivion